The Return of a King
by Cucumber
Summary: An alternate way for the LOTR trilogy to end. It’s mostly Aragorn musing on his past and his future, eventually making a surprising decision.


Notes: the characters don't belong to me, etc. I improvised the Elvish based on an Elvish/English dictionary that I found online.  
  


Aragorn sat on a chair polishing his sword absently. Tomorrow was going to be his coronation and his sword had to be shiny, of course. This was thought without malice, but he wasn't putting much effort into removing the years of wear from the blade. He was just rubbing the cloth over a small area ineffectively. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. 

"Come," he said, without wondering who it might be.

In stepped Jeev, one of his personal valets. The man bowed then began talking: "My lord, the tailor has just about finished your tunic and breeches for the coronation, but the cloak may take him until morning. He asked me to promise you that they would be done."

Aragorn inclined his head. He didn't much think about clothing. "Is there anything else?" he asked.

"Oh, yes, my lord. Your presence is requested in the bathing room by the Lady Arwen," Jeev said in a steady tone but his cheeks turned slightly pink.

Aragorn smiled inwardly. "You can tell her that I will be there momentarily."

"Yes, my lord. Now, may I take your sword to the blacksmith? He will shine it and hone it and it will be as good as the day you got it," Jeev said, reaching for the sword. It seemed a bit presumptuous to Aragorn so he did not immediately hand it over. This sword has never failed me, he thought. It _is_ as good now as it was on the day I got it. Will removing the dirt and wear remove the experiences I've had? Of course it doesn't, he told himself, but there was a part of him that wanted desperately to hold on to his days as a Ranger.

He sighed and told himself that he was being ridiculous. Once born he was fated to be the king of Gondor. Being a Ranger had only been a temporary measure until he could ascend the throne. It was his destiny. He handed over the sword, handle first. Jeev accepted it carefully.

"I will convey your—" he started but Aragorn cut him off.

"I will head for the bathing room now. You may tell the tailor that he will not be rushed. His skillfulness is appreciated."

"Thank you, my lord," Jeev said. He bowed and left the room, pulling the door shut softly behind him. 

A moment later Aragorn left his bedchamber and headed for the bathing room. As he walked along the corridors he was greeted with bows from servants and fare-thee-wells from fighting men. He greeted them all politely but spent not an extra second more in talk with anyone. He was going to see Arwen. Maybe she could help him focus on what was important. The coronation. Their wedding. The _future_.

Aragorn knocked on the door of the bathing room. A melodic woman's voice (_Arwen, my love_!) called for him to enter. He went inside and was surprised by what he found there. The bathing room was a fairly large chamber with a cast iron tub on one side and a roaring fire on the other, with buckets of water boiling over them. A strip of woven silk hung down from the ceiling near the bath. When pulled it struck a bell in the servants' quarters signaling that someone should come in and replenish the bath with more hot water. In the bath was Arwen, leaning her head against the edge, her long, black hair streaming outside of it. And around the room her hundreds of candles.

"Arwen?" Aragorn said.

"_Yanwe, meles_," Arwen said without turning around. _Join me, my love_.

In a moment Aragorn was in the steaming water beside Arwen. He kissed her with all his heart, but something was missing. 

"_Mammen lyaa noa_?" _Where is your mind?_ Arwen asked.

How easily she can tell that I'm not really here, Aragorn thought. She will make a wise and beautiful queen. Even if I'm taking her away from her home and her   
family. But it weighs lightly upon her shoulders. How much I love her.

"I'm sorry, Arwen. There are things on my mind that takes me away from you. There is so much afoot and yet none of it seems to be of much consequence," Aragorn said finally.

"Our _vestale_ is not of consequence?" Arwen asked with a raised eyebrow. "Or your _rie_?" _Our wedding? Your crown?_

"Of course they're important. It's merely the contrast that I'm feeling. For the past year I lived in mortal peril. I saw men—and Elves—die at the hands of an evil army. Now that I have gained a peace, I feel out of sorts."

Aragorn took Arwen hand and lifted it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles. She smiled.

"And before that—" Aragorn tried to continue his explanation but Arwen put her other hand to his mouth, shushing him.

"You need not explain yourself. Simply be here with me. Allow your mind to travel where it will and in the end you will find your path and your place."

Aragorn felt a deep sense of appreciation for Arwen and said nothing more. Arwen drew Aragorn to her breast and they lay together in the water in stillness and tranquility. Though Aragorn's mind would not be calmed.

I was a Ranger before I joined the ring-bearer, Aragorn thought. I went where I was needed. And I _was_ needed. Am I truly needed now? Aragorn could feel Arwen's steady heartbeat. I am being summoned in many directions, he thought, but I will go to where my heart directs me.

* * *

It was the morning of Aragorn's coronation. Jeev delivered the promised clothing. The cloak was indeed a masterwork of stitching. Jeev tried to help Aragorn dress himself but Aragorn waved him off.

"Bring me my sword," Aragorn commanded.

Aragorn stood in front of a large looking glass and assessed his appearance. I look like a king, he thought. 

Jeev soon returned with Aragorn's sword and he strapped it to his belt. 

"The very picture of a king triumphant," Jeev complimented.  
  
"Yes," Aragorn concurred. I look the part, he thought again.

His retainers led him to a balcony that overlooked a huge public square. Already gathered below were thousands of Gondorians. On the balcony were Faramir, Eowyn, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf, Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Arwen. They all stood solemnly, acknowledging the seriousness of the occasion. The heavily jeweled crown of Gondor lay upon a cushion on a small table.  
  
Faramir looked to Aragorn for direction. Aragorn nodded that he was ready for the ceremony to begin. He watched as Eowyn squeezed Faramir's hand before he stepped out to the front of the balcony to address the people.  
  
Faramir spoke: "It has been hundreds of years since Gondor has been ruled by its rightful king. My father Denethor did the best he could, but a Steward is no comparison to a king. Now Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Isildur's descendent, has returned. Not just to reclaim his throne, but to declare victory over the terrible blight that has been threatening our cities. The evil Sauron and Saruman have been defeated and will never return, thanks to Aragorn. He was aided by many, particularly the heroes you see here today—" Faramir waved his hand to indicate the Company behind him and the crowds let out a cheer for they knew of the exploits of the Fellowship of the Ring. "—But Aragorn was the one who led them to victory and now he will lead us all to prosperity, long life, and good tidings only.

"When my father died and my brother, Boromir, slain by Orcs, I became Steward of Gondor. Now I will renounce my title and bestow the crown of monarchy upon Aragorn, son of Arathorn."  
  
Aragorn stepped beside Faramir. Faramir picked up the crown from the table and held it out for the crowd to see. It shone brightly in the morning sun. Faramir turned to Aragorn.  
  
"My lord?" he said. He lifted up the crown to place on Aragorn's head, but Aragorn did not bend slightly to aid him. Instead he took a step back, away from Faramir. 

"My lord?" Faramir repeated. "Er . . . do you accept my resignation from the position of Steward and allow that my wife-to-be, the Lady Eowyn, and I may live out our days in peace as private subjects?" 

Aragorn looked from Faramir to Eowyn to Arwen to the crowd. A hush had settled on them.

"_Ya indo nyar um_?" Arwen whispered. _What does your heart tell you to do?_

"_Ya merne um_?" Aragorn whispered back. _What do _you_ want to do?_

"_Wanya mammen verno wan_," Arwen said. _I go where my husband goes_.

The Elvish speakers—Legolas and Gandalf—and Frodo, who understood a bit of it—looked perplexed by this exchange. Almost as perplexed as Faramir and Eowyn who understood not a word.

Sam elbowed Frodo in the ribs. "What're they saying, Mr. Frodo?" he asked, almost fearfully.  
  
"I don't know, Sam," Frodo said. He was being absolutely truthful, for though he grasped the gist of the words spoken, he had no idea what they signified.

"Aragorn," Gandalf said, interrupting the silence. "You must make a decision."

Aragorn was startled by the sound of the white wizard's gruff voice. Gandalf was right. He had to make a decision. And so he did. He turned back to Faramir and gently took the crown from Faramir's hands.

"I don't—" Faramir started to say then cut himself off. He would find out what Aragorn had in mind in due time.

Aragorn addressed everyone present. "I accept Faramir's resignation as Steward, and I recognize the service that he and his family have been doing for hundreds of years. They have ruled this land well and we all owe them our undying gratitude. And does that gratitude include casting them off, like an old boot or a worn harness? Instead, I would like to reward Faramir, son of Denethor, by making him king of Gondor and his children after him for as long as time continues."

Everybody on the balcony gaped at Aragorn. The crowd's stunned silence gave way to shouting, some in support of Aragorn's speech, others against.

Aragorn held up a hand and quelled the noise. "I have been a Ranger for too long to give it up for politics and governance. And my betrothed, Lady Arwen, deserves to live in Rivendell with her family and her people. I would rather live among ordinary men and help them where I can directly, rather than from above.

"Faramir has learned on his father's knee how to rule, and Eowyn has done the same with her uncle, Theoden, the old king of Rohan. I have witnessed their heroic feats in battle and noble natures. They are truly the king and queen that Gondor deserves.

"Faramir, son of Denethor, will you accept the crown of Gondor?"

Faramir looked at Eowyn. She nodded slightly. He turned back to Aragorn. "I accept this honor," he said and inclined his head. Aragorn placed the crown on Faramir's wheat-colored hair. Faramir straightened up and faced the crowd.

"Behold, your king!" Aragorn cried. "King Faramir!"

The crowd roared its approval. Aragorn motioned Eowyn to join her Faramir before their people. When the thongs saw her, they raised their voices even louder.

"Long live King Faramir and Queen Eowyn!" they shouted.

The huzzahs went on for some time. Finally, however, the crowd began to disperse. Everyone on the balcony stood staring at each other in wonder, unsure of what to say.

Eowyn gave Aragorn a stare that would have felled lesser men."Aragorn, are you certain of this decision?" she asked.

"Yes, Eowyn, I meant every word of what I said. I wish you and Faramir all the happiness in the world and the stations that you deserve. You are too noble a lady to live out your life in obscurity," Aragorn answered.

He went over to Eowyn, kissed her on both cheeks, then smiled. "And tomorrow we all shall wed."

"Now that should be interesting," Merry quipped and everybody laughed, breaking some of the tension.

"Does this mean we can eat now?" Pippin asked.

"Yes, Pippin, it does," Aragorn said, and led them all back inside the castle, Arwen at his side, whispering: "_Karne_ v_alina, meldo_." _You have made me so happy, my love_.

THE END

  
  



End file.
